Smoke and Lightning
by wearing-tearing
Summary: [TFTIU #5] "How about we make some shadow puppets?"


**a/n: **part 5 in my whatever comes our way 'verse (or tftiu #5). hope you guys like it!

* * *

"It's gonna start raining soon," Stiles says, rubbing his cheek against Derek's shoulder and pulling the covers up to his chest.

Their bedroom window is open, curtains ruffling with the wind, making Stiles shiver. He doesn't need to turn around and look outside to know the sky is getting darker by the minute.

"I know. Storm's coming," Derek says, closing his book and placing it on the nightstand. "It's good the kids are down for their nap. Maybe they'll sleep through it."

"Doubt it," Stiles snorts. "We're not that lucky."

"Hope springs eternal," Derek says dryly.

"Are all the windows closed? Doors locked?"

Derek looks pointedly at their open window before kissing Stiles on the forehead and getting up to close it. He's back in bed a minute later, lips curled up in a smirk, arms going around Stiles and pulling him closer.

Stiles snuggles in, resting his cheek against Derek's chest. He has one arm between them and the other thrown over Derek's waist, hand under Derek's shirt and splayed over his side.

"Now they are," Derek murmurs, pressing his lips against the crown of Stiles's head. "And your dad already told me to stock on batteries. Our flashlights are under the bed."

Stiles smiles a little and lifts his head up, lips brushing against the salt and pepper stubble on Derek's jaw.

"You're so efficient. The best husband _ever_."

Stiles feels Derek's skin heat beneath his lips as the blood rushes to Derek's face. He can't help but smile wider at the fact that after almost fourteen years together Derek still gets embarrassed whenever Stiles compliments him.

What makes it all better is that Derek doesn't shy away from kind words, and he doesn't try to tell Stiles he's wrong, unlike when they first got together. Years and years of therapy have come a long way to help Derek's self-esteem and self-worth, and it makes Stiles's heart soar knowing Derek's reaction to him is nothing but giddy embarrassment. There's no shame, no guilt, not anymore.

Which is why Stiles makes sure to tell him just how amazing he is every chance he gets. This being one of them.

"Really, though," Stiles says quietly, placing small kisses over Derek's cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth. "Sometimes I can't believe this is real. That I got you and we're married and we have three perfect kids that drive us absolutely crazy half the time."

"_Stiles_," Derek breathes out, eyes shining in the low light of the room.

Stiles shifts around until he's on top of Derek instead of beside him, blankets falling to pool at his waist. His arms are bracketing Derek's head, and Derek spreads his legs wider so Stiles can settle between them.

"Love you, baby," Stiles whispers against Derek's lips. "So much. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

It still holds true that Derek is better with actions than words.

So Stiles isn't surprised when Derek doesn't say anything back, just surges up and kisses him, hard and deep, trying to pour everything he's feeling into it.

And Stiles gets it. He's been getting it for a really long time.

He lets Derek control the kiss, takes everything Derek gives him, gets lost in the feeling of Derek's lips against his and Derek's tongue licking into his mouth. They stayed like that for a really long time, taking their time tasting each other's mouths, just making out like they so rarely do lately.

The rain starts just as Stiles pulls back to break the kiss so he can start mouthing at Derek's neck, fat drops of water hitting their window, drowning the sounds Derek makes as Stiles starts sucking marks into the skin.

Stiles doesn't waste any time getting his and Derek's shirts off, leaning down to nip at Derek's bottom lip before kissing his way down Derek's chest and stomach. He smiles when Derek gets his fingers tangled in his hair, trying to push him down where he wants him.

And that's another thing. Derek's long lost his hesitancy and shyness when it comes to asking for things in bed, much to Stiles's delight.

So Stiles obliges, hooking his fingers under the waistband of Derek's sweats and underwear and pulling them down past his hips and thighs. Derek's half hard already, and it doesn't take much coaxing from Stiles _and_ Stiles's mouth to get him all the way there.

And Stiles loves this.

He loves the weight of Derek in his mouth, the taste of him on his tongue, the little aborted thrusts he makes whenever Stiles swirls his tongue under the head of Derek's dick. He loves the sharp sparks of pain when Derek tugs a little too hard at his hair, how Derek's back arches when Stiles takes him in as far as he can, loves the way his name sounds when spilling from Derek's mouth in between gasps and moans as Stiles sucks him off, pleading and desperate and _wrecked_.

Fuck, Stiles really loves this.

Especially when he looks up at Derek just before he hollows his cheeks and _sucks_, watching as his husband throws his head back, entire body tensing as he comes.

Stiles swallows as much as he can, a bit of come and spit trailing down his chin as he lets Derek's dick slip out of his mouth. He wipes his face off with the corner of one of their blankets, ignoring Derek's unamused look, and moves up the bed.

"Stop judging, it's not like you're the one doing laundry this week."

Derek snorts, getting a hand on the back of Stiles's neck so he can press their mouths together. Stiles kisses him back, open-mouthed and sloppy, his lips swollen and tingling from use.

It doesn't take long until Derek's helping Stiles get rid of the rest of his clothes, licking one of his hands before wrapping it around Stiles, jerking him off quick and fast and just like Stiles likes it.

Stiles fucks up into Derek's fist, pants against Derek's mouth, dig his nails into Derek's back as he moves. He knows he's going to leave marks, red half-moons against Derek's skin that match up so nicely with the purple bruises covering Derek's torso.

All of them marking Derek as _his_.

And that's all it takes for Stiles to come, spilling over Derek's hand and making a mess of their bed, head spinning with thoughts of _Derek_ and _how lucky he is_ _that he gets to have him, have this, have them_.

"Fuck," Stiles breathes out, curling a hand around Derek's hip. "_Fuck_, I missed that."

Derek lets out a low laugh, making a point to clean his hand on the sheets. "You mean having sex or you treating me like I'm both your own chew toy _and_ scratch post combined?"

"We had sex three days ago," Stiles answers, pushing Derek down until they're both on their sides.

"The marking, then."

Stiles hums, leaning in so he can pamper Derek's face with kisses. "You love it."

Derek doesn't deny it, just bumps their noses together before saying, "Next time I'll be the one doing it."

Stiles grins wickedly, wiggling his eyebrows. "That works for me."

* * *

Next time turns out not to be as soon as Stiles hoped.

And by that he means it doesn't happen thirty minutes after him sucking Derek's brains out through his dick.

The rain and wind get stronger, battering their windows, and Stiles and Derek both know the kids won't stay asleep for long with the storm this close.

They head to the bathroom and wash up, toweling themselves off quickly. Stiles steals a few kisses as they get dressed, Derek in another pair of sweatpants and one of his Henleys and Stiles in his dark blue pajamas pants with fish imprints and a shirt.

"We have to take care of the bed," Derek tells him between kisses. "You know you'll be tired later, and I don't want to sleep on come stained sheets."

"Such sweet sweet words," Stiles sighs, pretending to be upset.

Derek shrugs, snaking his arms around Stiles's waist.

"You'll be the one sleeping on the couch if you don't."

"Yeah?" Stiles raises an eyebrow, hands on Derek's chest. "And where will you be?"

Derek smiles, pressing his nose against Stiles's cheek. "Noah's room. Unlike _some people_, I don't hog his blankets, so he doesn't mind sharing his bed with me."

Stiles doesn't know whether to be offended or hopelessly charmed.

It's been almost four years since Noah came into their lives, and as Stiles remembers all the times he came home late from work to find Derek on Noah's room, their little boy sprawled over Derek's chest and holding two of Derek's fingers in a tight grip as he slept, and decides on the latter.

"Alright, let's do this."

Derek insists on taking two of the flashlights he has stored under the bed with them, since it's not unusual for the power at their house to go out when it's storming this bad.

Which is a great thing, as it turns out, because as soon as they're done loading the washer, thunder and lightning strike and their entire house goes dark.

And then the kids start screaming.

Rationally Stiles knows they're just scared of the storm, but his entire body still grows cold and his heart stops in his chest at hearing his children scream.

He and Derek are up the stairs and in the hallway in no time, Stiles going to Noah's room while Derek gets Tony and Charlie.

"Dad!" Noah yells out as soon as Stiles crashes into his room.

He's kneeling on his bed, eyes round and scared, and clutching Dog—Stiles's old black stuffed wolf—tightly to his chest. He screams again and buries his face against the wolf when another thunder rolls in and Stiles almost trips on his own feet in his haste to get to him.

Stiles throws the flashlight on the bed and scoops Noah up, hugging him close and rubbing a hand up and down in his back. Noah wraps his arms around Stiles's neck, burying his face against Stiles's shoulder.

"It's okay, bud," Stiles shushes him, pressing his lips against Noah's temple. "It's alright. It's just the storm. I know it's loud and scary, but it'll be over soon."

"It's dark," Noah whispers, voice cracking, and Stiles's heart just about breaks.

"Here," Stiles says, keeping Noah secured against him while he leans over to grab the flashlight. "Why don't you this for me and light up the way, huh? That way we can find your brother and sister and Papa and we can all go grab more of these. That way it won't be as dark anymore."

"Okay," Noah sniffs, sliding one arm from Stiles's neck so he can hold it and direct the light in front of them.

Stiles carefully makes his way downstairs after checking the twins' room and finding it empty. He keeps rubbing Noah's back as he goes, trying to comfort him as it continues to storm outside.

When they finally get to first floor of the house it's to find Derek's flashlight high up on one of their bookshelves, the light casting a low glow around their living room. Derek, Tony, and Charlie are all busy making a nest of blankets and their many throw pillows on the floor by the couch, making it big enough so the five of them can fit comfortably in it.

"Hey, Noah, why don't you give me the flashlight and go help Papa?" Stiles asks, swiping Noah's bangs from his face. "I'll put it up there with the other one so it's brighter down here."

Noah nods, handing Stiles the flashlight and squirming until Stiles lets him down. He's running to Derek as soon as his feet touch the ground, barreling into Derek's side and almost sending him crashing into a pile of pillows.

Stiles's lips twitch and his heart melts in his chest when he sees Derek sit down and settle Noah on his lap, curling an arm around him protectively. The twins huddle close, one on each side of them, each bringing a quilt along so they can pull it over themselves.

The cuddle pile looks so inviting that Stiles goes on to do what he has to as fast as he can, walking around the couch and kneeling in front of his family after he's done.

"How's everyone doing?" Stiles asks, running a hand over Charlie's hair, stroking Tony's arm, tracing Noah's nose with the tip of his finger.

"We're okay," Charlie says, patting Stiles on the arm. "The noise was just really scary."

"And super loud," Tony adds, looking put out. "It woke us up from our nap. It wasn't time yet."

Stiles presses his lips together not to laugh. If there's one thing his six-year-old son is serious about, then that thing is nap time. To have it be cut short is a major offense in his book.

"How about I make us some hot cocoa while you stay with Papa?" Stiles suggests. "And then we can all take a nap if we want. How's that sound?"

Charlie nods while Tony gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up, and even Noah looks up from having his face smashed against Derek's chest to agree.

"There are marshmallows in the—," Derek tries to tell him, only to have Stiles lean forward and kiss him.

"I know," Stiles says, dropping kisses on Tony, Charlie, and Noah's heads. "And I'll be right back."

About fifteen minutes later Stiles is back, carrying a tray with five steamy mugs filled with cocoa goodness and mini-marshmallows. Lydia brought them back a set of five mugs when she came back from a trip to Paris last summer, all of them with a drawing of Mickey Mouse and their initials in big red letters.

Derek helps him set the tray down on the floor by their side and grabs the mug with the letter N, handing it to Noah before going for his own with a D, while the twins go for the T and C ones. Stiles takes his own S mug, pushing the empty tray away with a hand before climbing into the nest.

Charlie shifts so Stiles is pressed against Derek's side, unceremoniously sprawling over his legs as soon as he's settled. Tony, not being one to miss the fun, moves from Derek's other side so he's squeezed between Derek and his sister.

They don't say anything while they drink, the kids jolting slightly whenever it thunders again. Noah doesn't seem as upset about it now that he has his family surrounding him, which tells Stiles he was more scared of waking up to a dark house than the storm.

"I'm bored," Tony announces a few minutes later after they're all done with their drinks, grabbing one of the pillows, hugging it to his chest, and pouting like only a kid can do when stuck inside the house during a storm with no electricity.

"Same," Charlie raises a hand, smiling when Noah high-fives her and says, "Me too."

Stiles smother his laugh against Derek's shoulder, who scratches his nails against the back of Stiles's neck and murmurs, "Our kids, seriously."

Stiles grins at him, pecks him on the lips, and then turns to his lights of his life. "How about we make some shadow puppets?"

So that's what they do, making animal shapes with their hands, the twins trying to see who gets more of them right, and Derek and Stiles helping Noah move his fingers the right way until he casts the shadow of a wolf on the living room wall.

"Cool," Noah says, grinning up at Stiles before going back to admiring his shadow. He even moves his fingers a little, making so it looks like the wolf is opening and closing his mouth.

"Very cool," Derek agrees, looking ridiculously proud of their son.

"Yeah, buddy," Stiles says, making a shadow bunny for the wolf to chase. "Sometimes the dark isn't all bad, huh?"

"I guess," Noah mumbles, only for him to let out a cry and smash his hand into Stiles's. "My wolf is eating you! Grrrr!"

"I'll save you, Dad!" Charlie yells, quickly arranging her hands into a shadow bird. "I'll fly you away!"

"Not if I get you and bite you first!" Tony threatens, making the shadow of a spider appear.

"Help, Papa!" Charlie turns to Derek. "We can't let them eat him! We need Dad to read us bedtime stories and do the voices!"

"Oh, I don't know," Derek muses, eyes glinting dangerously as he raises his hands. "How about I just eat you all instead?"

The kids and Stiles all scream, "No!" just as Derek forms a crocodile with his hands.

Noah is the first one to go, slumping down across Derek's lap in hopeless laughter while Derek pretends to eat his stomach. Charlie and Tony are next, with Derek giving up on shadow puppets and just pulling them closer and faux biting their hands.

And then there's Stiles, who's been inching slowly away from them and raises his hands up in surrender when Derek catches his eye.

"Kids," Derek starts, and Stiles has to say it's a little eery seeing all three of them turn to stare at him at the same time. "We can't let him get away!"

Stiles only has time to brace himself before he's being attacked by his two six year olds, his almost four year-old, and his _husband_.

The nest of blankets and pillows lessen the impact with the floor when he falls back, air rushing out of his lungs as he suddenly finds himself with an armful of his three kids. They're laughing like this is the best thing that's ever happened to them, especially when Derek joins in and starts tickling Stiles's side.

And Stiles is helpless but to laugh right along with them; laugh until his stomach hurts and his eyes tear up and he's left gasping for air.

They all lay down on the blankets after they're sore and tired and feeling weightless from laughing so much, Stiles with Derek by his side and the kids draped on top of them.

It takes about twenty minutes for the kids to be sound asleep, Stiles and Derek rearranging them until they're lying in the middle of the nest so Noah is in between Tony and Charlie and the three of them are between Derek and Stiles.

Derek watches them sleep, every once in a while smoothing a hand down their backs, over their heads, listening as the rain and wind still go strong outside.

Stiles does much the same thing, propping himself up in a few pillows and smiling softly down at his family, heart filled with love and entire body feeling warm.

"Hey, Derek."

Derek glances up at him, eyes shining in the barely lit room, his voice low when he asks, "Yeah?"

"Love you, baby," Stiles tells him, echoing the words he said only a few hours before. "So much. All of you."

Derek smiles, big and bright and so beautiful Stiles's heart clenches in his chest.

"Love you too, Bunny," Derek says, reaching a hand out across the kids so he can tangle his fingers with Stiles's. "So much."

Stiles smiles back, squeezing his hand once.

"Love you too, Dad," Charlie mumbles, startling both of them. "And love you, Papa. And Noah and Tony."

"I love all of you," Tony adds, shifting so he's on his back and letting out a big yawn before he falls asleep again.

"Me too," Noah says, hugging Dog to him and wiggling around until he rest a hand on top of Derek and Stiles's tangled ones. "I love you."

And it's surrounded by his family that Stiles goes to sleep, on top of a blanket and pillow nest the middle of their living room as it storms outside, feeling so happy and loved he thinks he could burst.


End file.
